


found

by gacha



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: 3rd path, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal, bloody queen - Freeform, nova imperator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:37:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gacha/pseuds/gacha
Summary: Elsword and Raven have both suffered loss. But when something is lost, there is always another thing to find—so within themselves they search, and in one another they find.





	found

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while. here. early bday gift for a friend (he doesn't know yet shhh)

His eyes are open and he’s bolt upright in his bed before he really even knows why. He tenses up, preparing for a violent encounter as his instincts command him.

Then he processes the rhythm of some peppy pop song he doesn’t know—_dammit_, Chung—and relaxes. He grabs his phone off the end table and winces as its light hits his drowsy eyes. As he realizes he likely could have predicted, Elsword is calling him. He checks the time: 1:13.

“Hello. If this is another one of you and Chung’s debates, I—” he shuts himself up immediately upon hearing Elsword sniffle. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Uh… Hey, Raven. Sorry for uh, calling so late. Early. Either way, prob’ly woke you, huh?” Raven can tell he’s putting a lot of effort into keeping his voice even.

“That’s fine, I don’t mind; what’s the matter, Elsword?”

The younger laughs a bit, nervous and deep, and despite the newer pitch of his voice Raven feels his heart lurch in remembering how much younger he really is, how he’s really still just a kid after all these years.

“Hah, um, well, funny story really… uh, it—haha, it sounds stupid now that I…”

They’re both silent for a moment.

“I had a, uh, a nightmare.”

Raven feels sadness, sympathy, soften his face. “I see.”

Elsword doesn’t elaborate.

“It’s not stupid,” Raven says. “I’m sorry,” he adds.

He just keeps sniffling.

Before he’s really thought his idea through, Raven begins, “Elsword?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t we, ah, go grab something to eat? My treat.” _ Yes, _ Raven thinks, _ I am a responsible adult, making a kid go out to eat at 1 a.m. Great example I’m setting. _ But Elsword mumbles an agreement with obvious relief, so he shakes off his reservations. He gives him brief instructions to an unremarkable 24-hour place and feels better as he notices his speech steady. “See you in ten,” he says. He pulls his hair into a messy bun and prepares to leave immediately.

“Yeah,” a final, shaky breath, “yeah. See you in a min.”

When Raven arrives, Elsword is already there. He’s sitting on the adjacent curb, listening to some music without headphones. He tilts his head inquisitively when Elsword notices (belatedly) his approach.

“Oh. Uh, hey.” He pauses the music and stands, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. “Sorry. I didn’t want to go in alone or… have to listen to all the quiet.” He looks down, looks angrily embarrassed, almost. “Love the ‘do, by the way,” he says quickly. Trying to cover up his honesty, what he depicted as weakness. Raven touches his head self-consciously.

“Not at all,” Raven waves the apologies off. He wishes he could find the right way to tell him it was okay to be vulnerable. He keeps pace with Elsword as they make their way inside.

Elsword chooses a booth in the far corner of the empty restaurant. Raven orders himself a coffee and rocky road ice cream for Elsword, who doesn’t so much as look up as the server approaches. He lays his head on his arms upon the table, fiddling with his hair. He does mumble a thanks when the drink and dessert are brought, though. Raven experiences an odd sense of pride regarding the fact.

“So,” Raven says, dumping sugar into his mug.

Elsword gives him a weird, lopsided sort of look: a look as if he’s a child who knows he’s in trouble and Raven is about to scold him.

“You put sugar in that?” Elsword asks. Raven blinks uncomprehendingly at him.

“Yes?”

“But no milk or cream.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Why, indeed,” he responds, taking a long sip. He cringes despite himself and adds more sugar to it. Elsword stares at him, dumbfounded.

“Are you like, lactose intolerant or something?”

“No—what? Yes. This is irrelevant,” he says, wondering why Elsword honed in on such an insignificant thing. Was he shooting for some sort of distraction?

“That sucks, Raven. I’m glad I’m not like that, haha. Not being able to have this ice cream or root beer floats or cheese… that’d bite.” He takes a bite of his ice cream for emphasis.

“Generally, that doesn’t stop anyone. It stops me, but not most people,” Raven says, then frowns. He begins to chastise Elsword for trying to distract him from the matter at hand. “Hey,”

“Sis said that a lot. ‘That doesn’t stop anyone.’ Not about that, about lotsa stuff, but…” He trails off. Raven knows how stupid it would seem, how insignificant and illogical to outsiders, but he also knows exactly what he means, what he feels. How such tiny idiosyncrasies, things invisible to others, attached themselves to one person, how they became indivisible in your mind and how they’ll always be reminders no matter how detached or ridiculous. Mentally he files the phrase away under _ don’t use_.

“Elsword?”

“Mn?”

“May I… ask what the nightmares were about?”

Elsword lifts his head, looks straight at him, searches his face. He tries very hard to maintain a calm, collected expression. It feels like he, along with all his secrets, is being stared straight into and rifled through. As uneasy as it makes him, he doesn’t waver.

He relaxes just a bit when Elsword’s gaze slides away from him. “It’s pretty easy to guess, y’know,” he says.

“I don’t want to do that,” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to guess at your pains. They’re something you have to acknowledge yourself. And once they’re out in the open, you’ll find them easier to talk about.”

The grain of the table seems to really interest Elsword all of a sudden. He traces it with his gaze and fingertips, looking anywhere that isn’t at Raven. He sighs. He glances over to the lone server with suspicion, as if there’s something substantial to be gained from knowledge of his nightmares. But Raven points out the earbud wires running up the uniform and Elsword lowers his guard.

“I’ve dreamed a lot about… dying. And a lot about Elesis and a lot about every other person I’ve ever met and a lot about Elrianode and a lot about all those things all together and..” He runs a hand through his hair. Raven nods.

“You don’t need to worry about Elrianode,” Raven begins. “It’s scary, of course, you’re not in the wrong for being worried. I’m also not telling you to be careless because you certainly shouldn’t. But…” He smiles just a little, both for Elsword and himself, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Or anyone else, for that matter. I’ll protect you all and everyone will protect each other as well.”

To his surprise, Elsword nods, agreeing without argument. “I know. I know. You’ve always been there and so has everyone else.” He exhales. “I’m just—” he looks pained as he pushes out the words, “I’m scared.”

Raven reaches out and rests his hand on Elsword’s arm. He feels him tense for just a split-second, then relax. He rubs his thumb back and forth along his jacket sleeve. “I’m scared too, sometimes,” he says softly. “But nobody is going to let anyone get hurt. Not in Elrianode, not by Henir.”

“Yeah,” Elsword answers, “Not in Elrianode.” Bitterness drips from his words. For a moment, Raven doesn’t understand Elsword’s upset. He realizes, instants later. But all mistakes are opportunities, he reminds himself, so... 

“Not in Elrianode. But we can’t… control what happens outside of Elrianode.” He wracks his brain for a decent transition. “I’m sorry. I know how bad you’re hurting, I…”

Elsword won’t look at him. “I’ve watched so many of us lose,” he says, quiet. “Lose battles, duh, but that’s not even the important thing. I mean lose, like, themselves, lose their minds and dreams and love and it feels like I’m surrounded by strangers and dead, empty bodies and it fucking sucks.” He coughs, an attempt at masking a sob. “Because we can’t control Henir outside of Elrianode,” he flatly finishes.

Raven hurts for him, feels his grief resonate with his own. At the same time, his resolve solidifies, just a little more. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep your sister safe.”

Now red eyes meet his own. And he watches them fill with water, watches Elsword swallow his sorrow.

“It’s not your fault.” He clenches his fists. He’s trembling and his voice is unsteady; he, as a person, seems dangerously precarious right now.

Raven stands. “We should start heading back,” he suggests. “You go on out, I’ll pay.” Wordlessly, Elsword obeys. Raven follows with delay (he apologizes to the employee for their long stay and the nature of their discussion as he pays and tips).

As soon as they’ve walked back onto the road, Elsword’s self-control slips.

“You think you know how bad I’m hurting? No, you don’t!” Raven reaches for the boy, to steady and calm him as he continues, “You’ve been through so much more, you’ve lost so many people, more than I ever have, and now I’m hearing you blame yourself for my sister, I can’t believe you,” he jerks his arm out of Raven’s grip to wipe his face, “acting like we're comparable, saying you hurt as bad as I do. You don’t! You hurt a billion times more, I’m so sorry,” his voice drops, so abrupt, so raw, and Raven’s chest lurches with sympathy and sadness and frustration and the desire to _ protect_, to _ heal_, to help and keep safe and take away his sorrow, this kind of sorrow a child should never, _ ever _feel. “I’m so selfish, I’m sorry.”

Raven is surprised. “Your pain is no less than mine, Elsword. Don’t you dare apologize to me.” He can’t articulate his feelings correctly, he knows this, but he tries nonetheless. Firmly he continues, “You’re eighteen as of two months ago; you’re still quite practically a _ child, _ Elsword. You’re not supposed to have to mourn so early. You shouldn’t have had to grow up surrounded by violence. It’s terrible, the feelings and facts are terrible, but you aren’t.” As he expected, he’s dissatisfied with his wording, but he tries to hold tight to their intent.

Again, he won't look at him. “I… I guess, but I haven’t lost even half the amount of people you have. And they haven’t been gone as long. They’re not even really technically dead.” He bites his lip. “But here I am, acting like a baby,” Elsword mutters. “I feel like having this stupid meltdown every goddamn day. How do you _ live _ with this?”

A little piece of Raven’s mind answers, _ I don’t, I don’t live with it. _He rebukes it. He does live with it. He lives with the ache every day of his life, as real and as deep as the scars on his chest. At leisure he begins to walk; Elsword follows. “I’ve been living with it since before you were born,” he says gently. “You grow up, become stronger. You grow, but the wound doesn’t. So you’re stronger. Like scratches won’t scab under a bandage, the hole in your heart won’t fill back up if you’re covering it up. Loss never really heals, not completely, and it may not even ever stop hurting, but it stops impeding your progress eventually. Fear is the same way—you won’t ever completely conquer fear, but it fuels courage and thus, action, which then yields progress.

As much as it hurts, we can’t return Add to himself, we can’t reverse Ainchase’s descent, and we can’t put your sister back together.” He sighs. “What we can do,” he says, making sure now Elsword is looking at him, “is decide how we will continue after others no longer can. We can honor their memory by improving and changing and continuing the way they would have wanted us to, the way we would have wanted for them. We can do better for those who come after them.”

Elsword doesn’t think he’s ever heard Raven talk so much. Or himself talk so little.

He doesn’t have anything to say.

What could he have said?

So when the only sound he can bring himself to make is a sob, he surrenders himself to it. And when Raven hugs him, he sets his head on his shoulder and keeps crying. They stand on the empty street, surrounded with shadow, swaying. Raven rubs circles between his shoulders.

_ Just like Elesis would. _

He presses his face farther into the fabric of his jacket and tries really, really hard to get himself back under wraps. “I miss her.”

“I know you do,” Raven says softly. “Everyone does.”

“I want her to come back. I don’t want her to be crazy and sad and gone anymore.”

“I know.”

“It isn’t fair.”

“It isn’t.”

“Why did it have to be her?” Why couldn’t it have been me? I could have handled it! She should have let me handle it, she should have let me do the fighting and finding and—”

“You would have ended up the same way,” Raven interrupts, voice ginger.

“I know that! I know that! It’s not like I’m much better off with all the Dark El shit, it doesn’t matter, she was stronger than I was, she was worth more, it would have been better for everyone if it had been me! I should have ended up like that, not her!”

“Elsword,” he says, sharp and firm, “she’s not worth more than you. She’s not worth any less, either, of course, but—why do you think she’s more important than you?” His breath catches. This problem stretches far beyond Elesis, he suspects. “No, let me rephrase: why do you think you’re worth less than everyone else?”

For a minute he is silent. Then he pulls away from Raven and wipes his eyes and gazes at the sidewalk, shame and shadow swimming across his face. “I’m-I’m annoying, I don’t know when to stop, I’m not spectacularly skilled or strong or smart; for real, I’m pretty dumb, and I don’t do anything good for anyone or the world. Sis was strong, she was smart and nice and brave and hardworking and everyone loved her more than me—”

“Even if all those things were true, why would they diminish your worth?”

Elsword stares at him uncomprehendingly, as if the answer is obvious, as if Raven said something outlandish and awful. “I don't get it."

He considers briefly how else he can approach this, then asks, "Elsword, how do you define someone's worth?"

"I dunno," he replies instantly. Before he can flounder for some half-true, fall-flat elaboration, Raven supposits, "You must have some way of defining others' worths if you have such a vehement belief that you're lesser. Please help me understand."

He grabs Elsword's hand, presses his thumb into his palm. Elsword's eyes, borderline desolate, are trained on him. "Why is Aisha better than you?"

He frowns. "She's really smart and really sweet and funny and pretty and makes everyone feel better and smile and laugh and she's not bothered by anything. She's so strong and like, easy to be around."

"So some valuable traits are sweet, friendly, and having an uplifting and inspiring disposition. Do you agree?"

"Yeah," he answers offhandedly.

"Then how is Ainchase better than you like Aisha is?"

Elsword's face curls into something ugly and clouded, and Raven fears that his newer strategy is not the correct one this time. The boy shows no indication of responding. Raven tries again.

"Ainchase, as he is, is nothing like Aisha. He doesn't share any of those traits that make her better than you. So what about Ain _ does _ make him better than you?"

Repeatedly, noiselessly, Elsword opens his mouth, searching for an answer he doesn’t have. A voice in the back of his mind taunts him, _ Look at you, clueless and unreasonable as always! Too stupid to _ ever _ have an answer, aren’t you? _

Raven senses Elsword’s anger even before he blows up at him. He steps back to give the boy the space he needs and listens without comment to the hollering.

It’s only when Elsword yells, “You’re always going on about how righteous you want to become ‘cause you’re so tragic and terrible and unworthy, that you wanna be strong and protect people and be good, but it’s not like that was ever really a problem for you! You and everyone else in the whole world knows you’re a hero, that you’re just what a hero should be, so you’ve never needed to hate yourself like I do!” that Raven raises his voice.

_ “Elsword!” _

He’s so shocked at Raven’s sudden vehemence that even in the ragged bark of his desperate mid-sentence, he’s abruptly silent. He’s further shocked when Raven’s deep voice cracks right after as he says, “You do not—do _ not —'_need' to hate yourself.”

Raven’s voice drops as he realizes aloud, “You think pain is what makes a hero, and that if you put yourself through enough of it, you’ll be worthy of love and respect because you’ll be a hero.” He shakes his head. "But Elsword, a hero doesn't try to hurt good people. You're hurting yourself as much as you can on purpose, you're hurting a good person. And even if that weren't true," his voice breaks, "You are worthy of love, always, and always, I love you, Elsword."

Through his own watering eyes, Raven watches tears as they start to slip from Elsword's, too, and wants to reach out to dry the boy's face as his small, rough hands, smearing tears, dampens the rest of it.

Slowly, Elsword approaches Raven, sniffling and coughing as he cries, and settles himself in his embrace. He takes Raven's arms and wraps them around him, and, despite his surprise with this show of vulnerability, of _ bravery_, he thinks, of love, Raven doesn't hesitate to hug him. He leans into him and sobs, and sobs, and sobs; Raven clutches him, his _ son_, and buries his own tears in Elsword's hair, determined not to weep, if only for the other's sake. For all the time Elsword cried (it felt like a decade, yet only a single second), Raven remained with his eyes shut and his voice silent. Elsword's sorrow was the sole soundtrack of the twilight, his shaky breaths the wind and the soft hiccups reminiscent of some birdcall; the steady rhythm of Raven's arm on Elsword's back a woodland creature's pattering.

When the night is quiet once more, Elsword squeezes Raven's waist, like he's steadying himself, and draws a few deep, measured breaths. Raven's voice rumbles near his temple, soothing and warm; a lullaby, a fluffy blanket. "Let's go home, Elsword."

"I am home," he murmurs. "I am home."

He doesn't know how to respond. Raven's heart soars for his _ son, _ for the young man he loved so dearly and fret so often for. But Raven knows now that he doesn't need to worry for Elsword, that Elsword is so strong and so capable and, most of all, _ trusting _ of Raven. _ He'll be okay, _ Raven thinks, _ as everything will. _ He presses his smile to the top of Elsword's head.

He's just settled on a simple reply, an _ I love you_, when Elsword… _ snores _?

Elsword is asleep. Standing up. With his arms still locked onto Raven like a vice. Raven can't help but laugh. So he does, and he doesn't wake Elsword, and he knows he couldn't anyway, because Elsword could sleep through a tsunami and then some. He picks Elsword up, holding him on his shoulder like he would a (smaller) child, and starts back to his own house.

Over Raven's shoulder, Elsword peeks at him through his peripheral. Just at that moment, Raven shifts Elsword to his right side so he can dig through his pocket to retrieve his house key, thus catching Elsword's open eyes in the move. "Bastard! You were awake!" he accuses, (trying to appear) miffed. Mirth moves his mouth up in tandem with his mocking tone of offense regardless.

Elsword looks him dead in the eye and makes a cartoonish snoring noise, then bursts out laughing. Raven rolls his eyes and grins. He carries Elsword the remainder of the journey nonetheless, though upon arrival, the boy is dumped unceremoniously, in an upside-down heap, onto the sofa, a blanket vexing him with its obfusticating folds thereafter. "Hey!" he protests, muffled by fabric, to which Raven answers, "That's what you get for making me haul your butt back!"

Elsword finds his way out and blows a raspberry at his retreating figure. Raven laughs and calls a goodnight before entering his bedroom.

"Goodnight," Elsword says to the empty hall.

After Raven's door clicks shut and he listens to him settle, then fall silent, he adds, "Love you."

Raven smiles to himself. _ I know, _ he thinks. He hears Elsword make himself comfortable on the couch and shuts his eyes.

The house is sleeping as Elsword ought to be, but he gets up and tiptoes across creaky floorboards for one last moment of wakefulness. Arriving at Raven's bedroom door, he raises his fist to rap upon it.

And then he doesn't. Instead he sits, where the wood planks protest with subtle shrieks. "Thank you for being my family," he says. "You're the best family I could ask for."

And then he returns to the sofa where he'll sleep, the sofa in the one house he'll forever have a home, and he falls asleep, and he dreams not of Elrianode, not of Elesis, not of anything, and when he wakes, unlike every morning before, he wakes with his family right there with him.

  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for readiiiing, i'm on tumblr @ pukyuya (or... will be, eventually)


End file.
